


Hair of the Dwarf

by therunawaypen



Series: Hobbit/Lord of the Rings Tumblr Prompt Fills [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Braids, Character Death, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Grief/Mourning, Hair, Hair Braiding, M/M, Marriage, Post Unexpected Journey, widow Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therunawaypen/pseuds/therunawaypen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo always wore his long hair in a messy bun at the nape of his neck. The hobbits of the Shire always through he was odd for doing so, but the company don't find it that strange. They also know that hobbits do not place the same reverence on hair as dwarf culture does.</p><p>But when Bilbo panics when his hair is cut after facing down Azog, the company (and especially Thorin) learn that Bilbo placed more importance in his hair than they could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair of the Dwarf

**Author's Note:**

> Bilbo was married to a dwarf previously. What I’ve had stuck in my head for awhile is that things start normally but Bilbo has long hair that he keeps in a bun or a sloppy braid. The braid or bun is cut off and the dwarves are horrified by it but they didn’t think hobbits placed very high value on hair and they are confused when Bilbo is so desperate to get the cut off hair back. Later around the camp he unravels the hair and there was a perfectly made little braid with dwarven courting beads hidden inside the rest of the hair. Bilbo eventually lets on that he was always terrible at braiding and that the little braid was the last one put in his hair by his husband before his death and he couldn’t bring himself to undo it, even as the hair above the braid grew out. He just got tired of the looks people gave him for the braid and kept it hidden to himself with the rest of his hair. — comedygirl96

Bilbo had always been an oddity in the Shire for his hair. After all, hobbits naturally unruly curls were not meant to be worn long, especially in men. Even hobbit lasses would wear their hair in braids to keep it from forming knots, while the men simply kept their hair short to avoid such fuss. So needless to say, the lazy bun at the nape of Bilbo’s neck was a bit of an eyesore to the other hobbits.

To the company? Not so much. Sure, it wasn’t as neat and tidy as several of the other dwarves intricate beards and braids, but it was certainly in a better state than Kíli’s bird’s nest of a mane. So they made no comment about Bilbo’s hair.

There were plenty of other things they could talk about when it came to the Hobbit.

Such as when the hobbit had saved Thorin from Azog. It had been quite the spectacle of bravery (if not a good bit of stupidity) on the hobbit’s part. And dwarves certainly loved their brave spectacles.

It had certainly gotten the dwarves to rally behind Bilbo against Azog and his forces. And the escape via the giant eagles was quite the dramatic exit.

Of course, Thorin’s acceptance of Bilbo (finally) and their embrace on the top of the Carrock was certainly a good ending to that particular adventure.

“I think the worst may be behind us.” Bilbo sighed, looking at the view of the Lonely Mountain. They were all looking at the Lonely Mountain, the home they so desperately wished to return to.

It was Ori who shattered the moment.

“Bilbo, your hair!” He gasped, his eyes frozen on Bilbo’s hair. Or rather, the lack of it. The nape of Bilbo’s neck was now tragically naked, with only uneven lengths of hair curled against his skull.

For a moment, all of the dwarves stared in horror (with the exception of Ori, who couldn’t bear to look anymore and had buried his face in Dwalin’s shoulder). To lose one’s hair, and for it to be cut off (most likely in the heat of the battle with Azog) was a tragedy: a symbol of shame or mourning (as was the case with Thorin’s short beard). Many of them couldn’t look at the shorn locks for long.

Then there was the slight comfort that hobbits did not follow the same codes of conduct when it came to hair and beards. There would not be the same feeling of shame or grief, hopefully. Still, the sight of Bilbo with hair as short as a wee dwarf babe was hard to stomach.

Bilbo’s hand flew to where his bun would normally be, his eyes widening with horror. “Oh please, no. No no no…” Flustered, the hobbit looked around the rocky ledge of the Carrock, as if to somehow locate the mess of hair. His eyes met the rest of the company, “Please, you must help me find my hair.”

It was an odd request for a hobbit. True enough, a dwarf would on occasion keep his shorn hair, if only for the purpose of remembering his shame. For the most part though, cut hair was useless. But they were hardly going to tell Bilbo that, especially seeing his desperate expression.

Kíli, with his archer’s eyes, spied the clump of hair, dropped by one of the eagles as it had flown by, at the base of the Carrock. Luck would simply have it, of course, that the sounds of Azog’s forces gaining on their trail.

It was a miracle they had made it to Beorn’s house in one piece. Who knew Bombur could run that fast?

They were all still trying to catch their breaths before any of them even remembered the issue of Bilbo’s hair. Bilbo himself had even forgotten, but once he remembered, the same frantic look had appeared on his face. “It’s gone…” he whispered, in disbelief.

“Fear not, Master Baggins.” The company turned to see their king step forward, holding the curly mess of Bilbo’s hair, “I believe this is yours.”

Bilbo looked even more stunned than he had when Thorin had embraced him on the Carrock, his hands shaking as he accepted the hair from Thorin. The company watched in morbid fascination as Bilbo sat by the fire, picking through the soft curls. Every so often, Bilbo would toss a curl or two into the fire as he carefully picked apart the mess of hair.

It wasn't quite clear who had gasped at the sight of Bilbo pulling a single braid from the rest of the curls (most likely Ori or Dori), but the rest of the company mirrored the sentiment. It was a relatively thin braid in comparison to the dwarves’ thick hair and beards, but the beads that were clasped in the hair at one end were easily recognizable. Even if they hadn’t been, the way that Bilbo reverently held the braid clasped in his hands, pressing a small kiss to the bead as tears leaked from his eyes, would have informed the dwarves of the significance.

“Bilbo, lad,” Balin started calmly, “We had no idea you were married.”

Bilbo wiped his eyes hastily, “That’s because I’m not…I’m widowed.” He shook his head, pressing the braid against his cheek, “Frili had come to the Shire in search of work…I was the only one who would talk to him. Never imagined I’d fall in love with a dwarf, but then again, I never imagined I’d be going on a quest to slay a dragon, either.” He sighed softly, “This is the last braid he ever put in my hair. He’d rebraid my hair every morning, just because he said he loved to play with my hair. He went to Bree for a job…and I never saw him again. I never could bring myself to undo his braid, and I hated the looks I got in the Shire for it…so I started putting my hair up.”

“’s an honorable thing to do, remembering your spouse.” Glóin nodded, absentmindedly touching his own wedding braid.

Fíli blinked, “But you’ve been acting like you’ve never even met a dwarf before.”

“Yes, I suppose I was rude that first night together.” Bilbo chuckled, “Frili would have teased me for it…but it was painful, watching all these dwarves walk through my door…and none of them were _my_ dwarf…I reacted poorly.”

“You reacted as one in mourning does.” Thorin replied, stepping in front of Bilbo. He extended his hand, “May I?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Bilbo nodded. Carefully, Thorin took the braid carefully from Bilbo’s hands, gently rebraiding the portion that had begun to unravel. The King without a Mountain knelt slowly, taking Bilbo’s hand and carefully reworked the bead’s clasp to close over both ends of the braid, leaving the braided hair to circle Bilbo’s wrist.

“There, not you will not lose your husband’s memory.” Thorin nodded gruffly, standing once more.

A small smile passed over Bilbo’s face, “Thank you Thorin…” He cleared his throat nervously, “I know hair is important for dwarves, and you don’t take cutting of it lightly, but—” He stopped, reverting back to his nervous habits.

“Speak your peace, Master Baggins.” Thorin interrupted.

“Bilbo, please.” Bilbo replied, taking a deep breath, “And I wanted to ask if you would be so kind as to cut my hair—just so it’s even!” he quickly added, seeing the distressed looks on the various members of the company.

A small sigh of relief was breathed, and after a moment, Thorin nodded, “Of course, Mas—Bilbo.”


End file.
